Flavor of the Week: Thanksgivukkah

I effing love this

I effing love this

First, take note: my laptop does not spell check “Thanksgivukkah.” This holiday shan’t be red squiggly lined. It’s for real, people.

For a curvy Jewish girl/all-American like me, Thanksgivukkah is the best thing to ever happen. I get to eat until I vomit, and once I vomit all over my clothes, I’ll be gifted a new shirt to change into. How clutch is that? It’s like god is repenting me for my sins and giving me a soft cushion to land my fat ass on… do I sense a lil bit of Yom Kippur thrown in here?

If you’re still confused, Thanksgivukkah = Thankgiving + Hanukkah Hannahkkah, both of which happen to fall on the same day this year. It’s like a more generic and Judaically acceptable Chrismukkah. All in favor of an OC reunion to shoot a Thanksgivukkah episode, say “Shalom.” SHALOM, BITCHES.

The irony of Thanksgivukkah is that we have to be thankful for things like family, Buzzfeed as a news source, tempur pedic pillows, frozen yogurt, and our waxing ladies while at the same time allowing ourselves to be spoiled by aunts, uncles, grandparents, parents, and, if you’re lucky, significant others.

A lot of people are literally trying to combine Thanksgiving and Hanukkah by making latke-flavored turkey stuffing or baking gelt-bottomed pumpkin pie. Here are some creative ways I recommend for combining two of my all-time fav holidays:

  • Buy a pet turkey and bobby pin a kippah to its head. Don’t worry about having a wild turkey in your home, it’s totally kosher. Just have it chill with your dog or something.
  • Stuff your turkey (your dinner turkey, not your pet turkey) with Free People gift cards for the whole family to enjoy. This is also known as the low carb option.
  • Only serve Manischewitz. Then again, you should always only serve Manischewitz.
  • Dress code required: come as a pilgrim, a Native American, or a rabbi (with payis).
  • Only cook with butter, because obvi, there’s barely any oil left.
  • Serve pumpkin fro-yo. It’s the perfect combo of “Thanksgiving festive” and “Jewish girl swag.”
  • I’ve mentioned this before, but wear your tallit as a scarf. I’m really into this these days.
  • Use menorahs as mood lighting. It’ll be the chicest Thanksgiving ever.
  • Go in a circle and have everyone say which Judaism-associated sorority or fraternity they are thankful for.
  • Set a place at your table for Elijah. I know, I know, he’s the guy from Passover, but Elijah references in every day life make everything seem more Jewish.

Happy Thanksgivukkah! Don’t forget to hit up the black Friday sales, because every Jew would want you to celebrate a national holiday with a good bargain.

Image via


On Concert Etiquette

Going to concerts has always been and will always be a huge part of my life. I’ve seen over sixty, and that’s not counting the dozens of shows at the small indie venue my extended family used to own. My dad was a Deadhead and won my mom over by picking up her righty acoustic guitar, flipping it upside down (he was a lefty), and serenading her in her college apartment. Without music, there’s a legitimate chance I wouldn’t even be here right now.

That being said, I figured it was time I did a post on concerts. I was having a lot of trouble deciding which angle I should take because the wealth of information I could share about shows is enough to fill my first book. After some hefty brainstorming and a hefty hangover, I came up with an idea. This week, I wanted to do things a little differently.

Last night, I went to Kanye West at Madison Square Garden. It was nothing short of a religious experience. This nice Jewish girl is now a firm believer that Jesus–rather, Yeezus–walks (metaphorically, of course… don’t fret, Rabbi). Since I’ve been to so many shows in the first quarter of my life, I’ve become accustomed to creating the perfect concert-going experience. My night with Kanye was perfect. But I wondered… if FYDers were in my shoes, what would they do? I sent out a little Google survey to everyone I knew and had as many people as possible anonymously fill out answers to a few questions I conjured up. First, I’m going to list you the questions followed by my fav reader responses. Then, I’ll answer the questions from my POV, revealing how shit actually went down last night. Look at me, blogging on the edge. Trippy.

"I just talked to Jesus, he said whaddup fro-yo" --Kanye West, I Am A God

“I just talked to Jesus, he said whaddup fro-yo” –Kanye West, I Am A God

1. I’m going to a Kanye West concert. What should I wear/how should I look?
“HOT! look like Kim K he likes that” –female, 18
“All black, everything. Very chic, but then again, you are going to be surrounded by thousands of people that all think Kanye is next coming of Christ, so what you wear won’t really matter, cuz no one will notice.” –female, 18
“jeans converse tee” –female, 18 [This made me LOL]
“jeans, comfortable but cool heeled boots, dark top, leather jacket” –female, 18
“You know how much I love that fur vest…” –supposedly female, 18, but I think this is actually my mom
And the best response… “I dont know i wouldnt go to a kanye west concert. I would however know what to where to a zac brown band concert. A cowboy hat” –male, 19

2. Should I go to the concert intoxicated?
“YESSS DUH” –female, 18
“intoxicated with alcohol? no. should you be fucked up on molly? yes.” –female, 18
“yes kayne sucks so being drunk would make it better” –female, 18 [Kanye doesn’t suck, anon 18 year old female]
“Maybe a little” –female, 18
And the best response… “intoxicated is a strong word. Do whatever you feel the need to do to enjoy yourself, whether that includes alcohol or not.” –female, 18

3. Should I go to the concert intoxicated?
Yes, I repeated the same question twice. It’s because I went to the concert intoxicated. Just kidding, it’s because I don’t know how to make a Google survey.

4. If I haven’t bought my tickets yet, where should I sit or stand? Why?
“In close enough proximity to snap a quality insta pic, but not close enough to be spending absurd amounts of money for that ticket.” –female, 18 [Whoever you are, I love you]
“Stand because who wants to sit down when they’re drunk?” –female, 18
“where you can breath and DANCE DUH” –female, 18, who can’t spell breathe
“????? How are you there without a ticket?” –female, 18, who likes question marks
And the best response… “sit. on stage. because.” –female, 18

5. HELP! I don’t know any of the words. What should I do??? 
“i dont know how to respond to this” –male, 19
“You have plenty of time to memorize that shit. Worst case scenario, if you sing “watermelon” over and over it looks like you know all the words to everything.” –female, 18
“like right now this very second? you’re at the concert and you don’t know words? lol why. why would you go to a concert you don’t know the words to the songs to. um if it really matters that much to you, look it up on your phone? i’d just try to relax and enjoy the moment and dance or something. no point in trying to memorize the words now.” –female, 17, oh wow
“scream” –female, 18
And the best response… “vomit everywhere. no one will question you for not singing along” –female, 18

6. How should I go about making “concert friends?” How much true personal info should I give my “concert friends?” 
“oh lol i don’t know” –female, 17
“you dont make concert friends, just dance with random people” –female, 18
“not a lot just get stoned with them” –male, 19
And the best response… “do molly. no personal info, but do have sex with them.” –female, 18

7. What should I do if I get lost and my phone died? 
“Memorize the number of someone you are going to the concert with. That way, you can always call someone (or your mom).” –female, 18, but I really think it’s my mom
“Ask one of your concert friends to borrow their phone duh” –female, 17
“Borrow a normal looking person’s phone and call the really cute boy you’re obviously with.” –female, 18, YESSSS
“Cry and wander around and cry some more!” –female, 18
“pray” –female, 18
And the best response… “ask kanye for a charger” –female, 18

Now, here’s how it all happened frealz:

1. I’m going to a Kanye West concert. What should I wear/how should I look?
This girl nailed it: “jeans, comfortable but cool heeled boots, dark top, leather jacket” –female, 18. I wore black silk harem pants, suede heeled booties, a black bustier, and a moto jacket. All black everything. Always.

2. Should I go to the concert intoxicated?

3. Should I go to the concert intoxicated? 
Still hangin’ out up there.

4. If I haven’t bought my tickets yet, where should I sit or stand? Why? 
When you’re going to see someone like Yeezy, it’s GA or die. No brainer. Usually, it’s GA or die.

5. HELP! I don’t know any of the words. What should I do???
I happen to be wildly infatuated with Yeezus so I knew every word to every song. But if you don’t, just dance a lot and flaunt your tacky neon concert outfit.

6. How should I go about making “concert friends?” How much true personal info should I give my “concert friends?” 
How am I supposed to go about making concert friends if I’m too antisocial to make real friends? But when I do make concert friends, I sometimes tell them my name is Darcy. Don’t really know why.

7. What should I do if I get lost and my phone died? 
I didn’t get lost but my phone did die right after I ordered an Uber home (ugh). Then I tried to use a payphone and finally gave up on it after my seventh try–so millennial of me. Then I cried a little and took the last bus home. The end.
 


Flavor of the Week: FYD Does Art History 101

Before I decided I wanted to become Carrie Bradshaw a writer, I wanted to be an artist. First, I had an infatuation with the idea of being a marine biologist photographer for NatGeo. This seed was planted in my head when I was but a decade old, and all I wanted to do with my life was hang out with manatees and take cool photos. In middle school, I shyed away from marine biology and leaned toward rock n’ roll. I wanted to photograph trendy shit, like fashion and famous people wearing weird outfits (or, rather, no outfits). My most recent obsession has been in film, not that I’m handy with a video camera whatsoever. In high school I took up acrylic painting on canvas. Now I have a sick DSLR, a beautiful easel, pallet, brushes, and paint set, and an Instagram (Insta covers the trendy photog shit). But, unfortunately, I stopped thinking like an artist and started writing like a yenta.

Since I discovered that I’m really born to write, I haven’t had as much time to paint, swim with sea animals, or to even charge my Nikon. I thought it would be great to take a trip down memory lane and reeducate myself. After all, a huge part of being trendy is remaining culturally in tact with the artistic community. I have this good friend, Juliette Hayt, who is the most talented chick I’ve ever met. She uses oil, watercolor, and arcylic paint and then inks and pens for illustration. Juliette claims that her dark/surreal subject matter doesn’t reflect her as a person and that it all comes from her subconscious. OK, Jules, that’s like me claiming I dressed up as Wednesday Addams for Halloween just “because I felt like it” and not because she’s actually my alter-ego.

It's funny that people think this isn't my face naturally

It’s funny that people think this isn’t my face naturally

What I decided to do for this week’s flavor is to take some of the coolest shit Juliette’s made and then analyze it through an FYDer’s point of view. Enjoy!

"The Meltdown"

“The Meltdown”

This is an example of a dystopian society in which Jewish women around the world have eaten so much fro-yo that their bodies are starting to melt. Eventually, everyone’s body will be a puddle of fro-yo. The women Juliette featured were once big fans of the mango and pistachio flavors.

This is an edgy representation of one of my favorite movie scenes of all time:

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This piece represents the horrors that ensue when boys speak their opinions as well as the complex of the egotistical man. More specifically, it dives deep into what happens when you’re at a liberal arts college and on some sort of hallucinogenic drug and a boy makes a sexist comment. The braces are a strong symbol for how boys think their opinions are more important than ours, but, like braces, they are really just ugly and probably not worth what you paid for them.

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This is what happens when girls waste their calories on carbs instead of fro-yo. We become green monsters and not even keratin will fix our hair once it’s turned into spaghetti. These girls were clearly once very trendy because they are wearing baggy, vintage t-shirts with slogans like “yum” and a mustache on them. They also have crazy thigh gaps. The moral being portrayed here is “don’t be spaghetti, and also get keratin.”

Thanks for joining me for a great lesson in Art History 101. Also, props to my girl Juliette for letting my borrow her unbelievable artwork. I only aspire to be as artsy as you are. Click here for her site and check her out on Insta @juliette_hayt.

On Long Distance Relationships

I have always wanted to be a guru of something. I’ve attempted many times, going through a guru of Polly Pockets phrase, guru of Dalmatians phase (don’t ask), guru of tye dye Soffe shorts phase, guru of anxiety phase, and even a guru of haiku phase. I finally feel like I’m a guru of something, though it’s something I neither imagined I would be a guru of nor one I ever wanted to be. Unfortunately, I am a guru at long distance relationships.

haha same

haha same

Being a guru of long distance relationships is really tough work. Ideally, I would have an ashram located in a TriBeCa loft space where teenaged girls wearing a strict uniform of bare feet, Lulu Lemon leggings, and vintage Grateful Dead t-shirts would come with the two most essential things in life (tissues and yoga mats). Then, we would sit in prayer circles and I would offer words of wisdom about topics like “She’s Not Just His Best Friend, She Wants His D,” “Obsessive Facebook Stalking Is A Disease,” and “Don’t Let Him Manipulate You, You Got This In The Bag Girlfriend!” Of course, I can’t afford the ashram just yet so for now I have a small group of Instagram followers that had a mild infatuation with my fairytale-esque relationship while it still existed.

I was in a full fledged LDR for seven months. Then, like everything else eventually does, it ended. Because of my obsession with cynical millennial-oriented thought-piece websites, I’ve read tons and tons of posts about LDRs. To my surprise, they seem to be a really popular topic. This is probably because writers like to tell the world about their failures in love. Clearly, it provides good material. I’ve read pro-LDR pieces and anti-ones. To be honest, most of them say that these relationships aren’t worth it. To be even more honest, I have to agree.

There is a strong argument in favor of long distance relationships: if you really “love” one person, and if you see a potential future with that person, then distance shouldn’t change the way you feel about them. But I didn’t stop loving my boyfriend because he was far away. Things changed because we did, and we changed because we are human. He probably claims I changed because I’m a bitch, but whatever.

I’m not anti-long distance, don’t get me wrong. If you can do it, then you should. But there is a serious problem in long distance relationships and it’s that people forget to put themselves first. Call me selfish, sure. But your relationship shouldn’t turn into an extracurricular activity. You need to do you. You can also do each other, but you primarily need to do you.

People keep writing about the crucial parts of a long distance relationship–talking every day, trusting each other. They say that when a long distance relationship fails, it’s because you’re missing one of these ingredients as if your love life can be written down in a cookbook and made by following a recipe. All of these cliché writers are neglecting to highlight happiness. LDRs have a tendency to break someone’s heart in half and then hold one piece hostage a thousand miles away. You deserve to have your whole heart, all of the time. You deserve to have you. My LDR didn’t end because I couldn’t deal with the four hour bus ride or because I wanted to be with other people. It was because I needed to have myself and my whole self to do what I wanted. We deserve to feel OK by ourselves because we’re fucking awesome.

Recently, my ex-boyfriend gave me a digital shout out, so I thought that it would only be fair to return the gesture. There was a lot of talk about my break up. Haters gonna hate, but what it comes down to is that my long distance relationship just didn’t work.

On long distance relationships, in summary: life is going to happen, so maybe we should let it. 

Image via


Flavor of the Week: Being Sick

Being sick right now is like rolling deep at E-Zoo. Everyone’s doing it.

My sickness started the first night of Halloweek. For the first time in my life, I completely lost my voice. Usually when people lose their voices, I assume they’re faking it to try and sound “hot.” Apparently guys like it when our voice resembles theirs via 2008. So the second I hear someone complain about a lost voice (which they probably do just to show off their faux-rasp), I never hesitate to ask, “Have you tried coughing to fix that?” or, “You could probs just cough and that’ll go right away!” It’s really rude, I know, but being sick is much chicer than faking sick. Faking sick is too much effort. It’s better to just not be sick at all.

There are pros and cons to being sick. When I went home from school for fall break, I went on a psycho eating binge that wasn’t like “ugh, I had fro-yo thrice in one day” but was scary and revealed a lot about the unconscious association I have between food and home. Before I get all I-went-through-seven-years-of-therapy on you, I’ll get to the point–I literally ate myself into sickness. You don’t wanna know the gory details, but I was sick. Like, sick. The con this time around was that I almost shit my pants at a petting zoo (long story). The pro was that I lost two pounds when I should have gained five. Yay.

Mono is a sickness with tons of pros i.e. you don’t have to get out of bed for months and have an excuse as to why you physically are incapable of working out. If you have mono, everyone knows you get guys. It’s like a less slutty and more desirable form of HPV. One of my best friends (who is prominently featured on The FYD for her Big 10 prof pic) says that everyone at Michigan has mono right now. A.K.A., everyone at Michigan is sexually active right now but using protection (if they didn’t, they would have something else). This is so great to hear.

For me, being sick is an excuse not to go out. At the same time, I look like I’m such a partier that my body is degenerating. Last Saturday, I didn’t go out because I had a cold that was probably a hybrid strain of the Bubonic plague and Yellow Fever. Instead, I lied in bed with cranberry almond trail mix and fro-yo while two of my best friends sat on my carpet and told me funny stories about things like their IBS kicking in during a morning-after (another illness FTW).

Being sick really isn’t so bad after all. Honestly, if you’re gonna be popping Advil on the daily, you might as well be sick when you do. It’s good karma.

Image via


On What Your Profile Picture Says About You

As an avid reader from an early age, I was always told to “never judge a book by its cover.” Years and years have passed, and we’ve gone from judging books by their covers to judging girls on their cover photos. The importance of an AIM icon has transposed itself to the importance of a Facebook profile picture. And if “a picture says 1,000 words” then we’ve all got books as long as the bible to read… the 3,564 photos you have tagged of yourself in a story 3,564,000 words long. I was once told in conversation with a professional writer that you do not become a writer until you’ve written 1,000,000 words. I guess we’re all writers now… three times through, anyway.

What I’m trying to get at is that your prof pic says a lot about you. And if you think that this statement is disputable, go ask your best home friend’s camp friend’s best college friend’s camp friend how she knows what you look like. I dare you.

Here’s who you are as defined by your pro pic. Yes, I am stereotyping you.

The solo shot. The solo shot is either something you do or something you don’t. A girl that sets a solo shot as her prof generally feels really comfortable doing so. If you’re a solo shot girl, you’re confident. Potentially a leader more than a follower. The real question here is: how did this you get that solo shot? Why would someone be taking a photo of just you, alone? Two potential answers: you asked your friend to take this solo shot, or your friend has a lesbian crush on you. Either way, really.

The tailgate. You’re decked out in Big 10 apparel, sipping on your cup of beer or, if you’re a true betch, holding your ominous liquid in a Vitamin Water Zero bottle. If you’re on a roof, you’re a party animal. If you’re not, you’re still just a fun gal looking to have a good time. Also, you go to a Big 10 school. And you go to a Big 10 school. Did I mention that you go to a Big 10 school?

Couldn't help but not blur out the face tats

Couldn’t help but not blur out the face tats

The boyfriend. You’re in a serious relationship, and your boyfriend is hot. If it wasn’t or if he weren’t, it wouldn’t be worth sharing your Facebook identify with him. If you have a serious boyfriend and you’re pro pic isn’t one of the two of you, then do you really have a serious boyfriend at all?

One from my own personal collection

One from my own personal collection

The camp. You’re a nice Jewish girl, and that’s about it. Just kidding. There are two varieties of campy pro pics: 310213_2479434102606_1614303645_n

         -With little girls/your bunk. You’re super maternal and caring. You love getting down in the dirt and caring for “your girls.” Watching a guy play with a baby is like Facebook stalking a girl whose profile picture is one of her with her little campers. You must be cute and lovable. Oh, you must.

         -With friends. You’re wearing your Nike running shorts and white Hanes v-neck like a boss. Oh, wait, were you color war captain? You were a GENERAL!!!!???? No way!!!!!! You must be the SHIT!!!!

The party pic. You’re always looking your best in these because you spend at least half an hour working on the shading of your eyeshadow. You’re pretty and you like to have a good time. You’re also capable of keeping your shit together on a Saturday night, which is respectable for sure… especially because it seems like most of us can’t accomplish that, nowadays.

The birthday bitch. You’re not just a birthday bitch, you’re the birthday bitch. For some reason, girls always look great blowing out candles, staring at a birthday cake, or wearing a sash or a tiara. It comes naturally to us to be viewed as royalty.

My current pro pic... kk

My current pro pic… kk

The Halloween. Halloween is the only time that a girl can get away with making her pro pic equal to a porn photo shoot. You clearly want us to see your bod, and you know that this is the only socially legal way to do so. Maybe you’re not this type–maybe your costume was just really creative. In that case, mazels. Try art school.

The broad-goes-abroad. You’re so cultured and well-traveled. You love to take adventures and also pose with a bunch of locks or maybe some giant letters. Because, hey, who doesn’t?!?!?!?!

The TWC (Third World Country). You’re a Cady Heron wannabe who is trying to balance the “pretty but down to earth” thing. Also, you’re trying to save the world… one Instragram filter at a time.

The “I’m eating at a cute cafe/restaurant outdoors on a sunny day”. Your life is simple, beautiful, and full of wonder and smiles. You also like to pretend that you’re a living, breathing fashion ad. The photo cries: “Take me out to lunch! I’m beautiful!” (I love this one. It’s chic as hell.)

The Bitchy Beachy Babe. See “The Halloween.”

The seflie. If you make a reference to the fact that your pro pic is a selfie in the caption, then you rock at life in an ironic way. If the photo reminds me of my days as a sixth grader on MySpace, then you need to wear less eyeliner.

Special shout out to all of my babes who let me Facebook-stalk them to the death to find the perfect pro pics. 


Flavor of the Week: Movember

I learned what No Shave November was in high school when every guy I knew slash every Jewish girl who got her lip waxed on the reg decided to grow a ferret on his/her face starting on November the first and ending on November the thirtieth. (Just kidding about the girls, maybe they had some other excuse or something.) These woodland critter-seeming mustaches and sideburns poked their way through the pores of teenaged boys far and wide in what I understood to be an age old tradition used as an excuse to prove that someone had, in fact, finally hit puberty. Only a small handful of people were actually capable of sprouting a full beard back then. Regardless, facial hair made a guest appearance for one month of the year.

These guys shave eleven months for one. Soon, I learned that this tradition would haunt me to college. Oh, yes. No Shave November is definitely a “between the ages of fourteen and twenty five” thing. But this year, for the first time, I heard formerly known No Shave November referred to instead of “Movember.” And my reaction was: WTF is this??????

"30 days have September, April, June, and Movember"

“30 days have September, April, June, and Movember”

When someone says “Movember” I imagined two things: 1) moving trucks, and 2) me someone being like “put some mo’ food on my plate” or “mo’ money mo’ problems.” It turned out that I was COMPLETELY fifty shades of wrong. Not only is Movember a (bad) combination of the words “mustache” and “November,” but it’s a charity event. Who knew?

According to the Movember Foundation, which is also a thing I guess, men are supposed to grow mustaches during the month of November to, and I quote, “change the face of men’s health.” I am really ambivalent about this as a legitimate cause. The Foundation throws “Gala Partés” around the world, charging an entry fee (that of which is donated to men’s health causes) and encouraging Movember-related costume contests. So here’s the question we’re all wondering: who comes dressed up as an un-manscaped penis?

And here’s what every girl is thinking: is there any way for me to use this as an excuse to not shave my legs?

Images via and via